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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27437215">Got my attention in the fadin' light and it's a feeling I don't wanna fight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaBaggins/pseuds/JuliaBaggins'>JuliaBaggins</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Crusades Era Joe | Yusuf al-Kaysani &amp; Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mission Fic, Oh and Joe adopts a cat!, Slice of Life, Temporary Character Death, The first chapter is the mission, The second is Joe &amp; Nicky's backstory</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:41:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,705</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27437215</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaBaggins/pseuds/JuliaBaggins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nicky and Nile are on a mission together, and a necklace that Nicky is wearing sparks her curiosity. </p><p>The story how he got it also is the story of how ages ago, Yusuf and Nicolò fell in love.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Nile Freeman &amp; Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>182</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Soo, after writing on this one for ages, I now decided to split it into two chapters. This first one takes place nowadays, the second one will be a flashback to the crusades era. </p><p>Lots of thanks to Sarah, who listened to my rambling when I first had the idea for this story, and to Ceci, who helped me wonderfully in figuring out some issues I had with it, and named the cat - Grazie mille! ❤️</p><p>Have fun reading! 😊</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nile looked at herself in the mirror while Nicky helped her with the zipper of her dress, and smiled. </p><p>“Grazie”, she said once he stepped back, and saw a smile flash over Nicky’s lips in the mirror. </p><p>“You’re welcome. And, you truly look breath-taking, Nile.”</p><p>She turned around, quickly, feeling the expensive fabric of the dress fly around her ankles, and then looked at her companion.</p><p>“You don’t look too bad either”, her eyes took in the way the dark tailored suit hugged his body tight in all the right places, and how the light green tie brought out the colour of his eyes, “Quite the snack in that suit, actually”, and she winked at him.</p><p>Nicky blinked at her, his nose wrinkled in confusion.</p><p>“A snack? Ma perchè?”</p><p>Nile couldn’t help but laugh, and then to lean up for a friendly ruffle of his hair, the way she sometimes had done to her little brother. Nicky leaned into the touch with a smile, but his eyes still looked at her in curiosity.</p><p>“Sometimes I forget how <em>old</em> you people are”, Nile laughed, accompanied by a half-hearted eyeroll, “What I meant to say is that you look great in that suit; hot, if I can say that about someone who could be my great-great-great-great-gre-“</p><p>“Nile”, Nicky’s try for a stern look was betrayed by the way his eyes smiled.</p><p>“-great-great-grandpa.”</p><p>“I get it, I’m old.”</p><p>“I mean, yeah, you are. Very old. But seemingly that doesn’t stop you from rocking that suit like a damn model, so, kudos to you. You should maybe also wear that once we’re back home, you know? I’m sure Joe would like it.”</p><p>“Oh, of that I am sure too”, he said in a low voice and the glint in Nicky’s eyes turned dangerous.</p><p>“On a second thought, maybe I should take Andy on a little weekend trip once this mission is over, so Joe can admire you in and out of your suit all he likes, without me risking to accidentally walk in on something that won’t let me look into your eyes for at least a hundred years.”</p><p>Nicky chuckled, and was just about to answer when his phone rang. Immediately, the smile dropped from his face, a perfectly blank mask now, and in his eyes shone nothing but pure focus.</p><p> </p><p>“Boss?”</p><p>“You ready to go in there?”, Andy asked, put on speaker by Nicky so Nile could hear her too.</p><p>“Yes, we’re good to go, all dressed up like we’d be going to meet the Queen, not attend the birthday of a pathetic local crime lord.”</p><p>“I’ve once witnessed you meet a queen in nothing but your undergarments, so I hope that you-“</p><p>Andy got interrupted by Nile and Joe at the same time.</p><p><em>“What??”</em>, Nile asked, her mouth dropping open, while Joe said, around a chuckle: “That had<em> very</em> valid reasons at the time, aaand, more importantly, we should focus now.”</p><p>“Alright”, Andy agreed, while Nile still stared wide-eyed at Nicky, “Keep in mind that tonight is just about information gathering. Blend in, have some polite conversations, see if you catch a word about the delivery, but don’t force it. Copley said there won’t be a point in taking action before he gets his delivery next week, so there’s no need for any trouble. Just go to the party like some fancy people, maybe even have some fun. Nile, remember what we practiced with your h’s for that French accent he fancies so much.”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“I’m sure you’ll be great”, Andy then said in French, causing Nile to smile.</p><p>“Merci, Andy.”</p><p>“Okay, see you afterwards. Good luck!”</p><p> </p><p>Nile expected the phone call to be ended after Andy had said her goodbye, and then found herself the opposite of surprised when it wasn’t.</p><p>“Nicolò?”, Joe’s voice was clearer now, indicating that he had taken the phone from Andy, and there was a softness in the way he said the name that Nile couldn’t help but smile at.</p><p>“I’m here, habibi.”</p><p>“Be careful, please.”</p><p>“It’s just an evening of observing this man and his friends pretending to be part of some high society as if we’d be back in 17th century France. Nothing dangerous there. Plus, I’m always careful.”</p><p>Once again there was the sound of Joe chuckling audible through the line.</p><p>“Of course you are”, he agreed in a half-laugh, and then his voice turned serious: “I don’t like not being there to have your back.”</p><p>Nicky bowed his head at that and took a deep breath.</p><p>“I know that you don’t. And I don’t like being not with you either. But it’s gonna be fine. It’s one mission, one that needs me looking ridiculous at a party while you and Andy keep track of the train station, and as soon as it’s all over, we’ll be back together. Nile said we might have a free weekend; doesn’t that sound nice?”</p><p>“It does indeed, amore mio. Okay, I think Andy is getting impatient. I’ll see you at two in the safe house. And, take care, please.”</p><p>“I will, I promise. And I’ve always got you with me, hayati. I love you.”</p><p>“You’re my everything”, and with that, Joe ended the call.</p><p> </p><p>Turning to Nicky a moment later, Nile could see that he was looking at himself critically in the mirror.</p><p>“Nicky?”, she asked carefully, unsure if talking to Joe and missing him maybe might have upset him, “You okay there?”</p><p>“Oh, yes, of course. It’s just, somehow my tie doesn’t look as it should? Usually Joe helps me with those, I’ve never quite mastered it to be honest – you don’t happen to..?</p><p>“Say no more! I have practiced this enough with my brother prior to his prom that I think I can manage quite well.”</p><p>“You’re a lifesaver”, and Nicky bowed his head, so Nile could look at his tie. </p><p>She straightened the fabric around his neck, and frowned, at feeling an unexpected sensation.</p><p>“Are you wearing a necklace?”, she never had seen Nicky with one, despite mutual occasions of her friend being shirtless around her – no matter if it was mission related, as in that terrible lab nearly two years ago, for fun, like when her friends had introduced Nile to the joy of running into the Mediterranean Sea from a deserted beach in Greece, or unintentional, when Nicky’s smile in the mornings was so dreamy and his hair so ruffled that she could understand him forgetting to put on a shirt before coming down for breakfast.</p><p>“I am, yes”, and then, noticing her curious glance, he pulled his tie to the side and opened the upper buttons of his shirt, to be able to show her a fine golden necklace resting on his chest, the small cross it was carrying sitting right above his heart.</p><p>“I’ve never seen you wear that before.”</p><p>“I only do so when Yusuf and me are separated. It brings me a sense of.. of calm, I guess it is, to carry a part of him not only in my heart but also above it.”</p><p>“He got you that?”</p><p>“Yes. Lifetimes and lifetimes ago.”</p><p>There was something in the way he said that that told Nile that there was more to this necklace than a mere gift from a long time ago, so she raised an eyebrow in curiosity. Nicky smiled before buttoning his shirt closed again.</p><p>“It’s a beautiful story, but Joe tells it better than I do. Plus, we should leave, we’re expected to be at the party in 5 minutes. Are you ready?”</p><p>“I am”, she assured after a last glance at herself in the mirror, and then went to quickly fix his tie.</p><p>Nicky smiled at Nile, and then offered her his arm, gently guiding her out of the luxurious hotel room. </p><p> </p><p>The party turned out to be even more boring than Nicky had expected, but he had centuries of experience in hiding how he actually felt about the people he found himself around, and so, after a few hours, he had managed to chat with most of the members of the crime organisation; pretending to care about the looks of the women at the party and the weird thing that Americans called football as much as they did. Sometimes, he managed to sneak a glance over at Nile, smiling brightly at the gangster boss who was practically glued to her every word, and he quickly hid his grin in his glass of fragolino. </p><p>When it was time to go, Nicky patted the shoulder of his most recent conversation partner, slipping in another American football comment, and then met with Nile outside of the building. She showed him a piece of paper with a phone number written on it, adding a wink.</p><p>“So I think we can note down that he was digging my French; we’ve got a date for next Friday evening. I got the impression he didn’t even think of the delivery when agreeing to that date, because, you know, I ooonly ever have time on Fridays, and I’d have been soo sad to miss that”, she said the last part in a quite convincing whine, adding some puppy dog eyes for good measure, and Nicky laughed.</p><p>“You’re doing great there, little sister.”</p><p>“Nawww, thanks bro. What have you been up to yourself?”</p><p>“Ah, I gathered some more information about who belongs to the inner circle and who doesn’t, but mainly, I had to listen to endless complaints about teams from your football.”</p><p>“Our football?”, they’d had that argument before, but Nile still took the bait with a hidden grin and a fake exasperated expression.</p><p>“Yes, yours. In contrast to, you know, <em>real</em> football. Where you actually play the ball with your <em>feet</em>”, he winked.</p><p>“Oh shut up”, she lightly shoved his shoulder and was about to tease some more, but then, the clock of the nearby church rang.</p><p>A quick glance told Nile and Nicky that it was half past one, and they hurried their steps, not wanting to be late to the safe house.</p><p> </p><p>Despite their best efforts, it was ten minutes after two when they finally made it to the unspectacular little house, perfectly hidden between hundreds of other unspectacular little houses in the suburbs. Nile knocked on the door, three times quick and two more after a break, and a second later, Andy opened the door, smiling at the two newcomers. She hugged Nile and Nicky was about to lean in too, when he noticed the bloody piece of fabric in her hand.</p><p>“Andromache? Did you get hurt?”, his eyes frantically scanned her body.</p><p>“No, I didn’t. Nicky, please calm down.”</p><p>“Then what- <em>Joe?!</em>”, Nicky called over Andy’s shoulder, prompting his husband to appear in the living room behind her.</p><p>Nicky went past the two women with lightning speed, not registering the door being closed or their hushed voices, not when his whole focus was on Joe. Joe, on whose forehead there still were some traces of blood visible, and even though every wound would have been long gone, Nicky quickly leaned forward, to inspect his skin with the softest of touches.  </p><p>“What on earth happened, my love? Have you been attacked??”</p><p>Before Joe had the chance to answer, Andy snickered. </p><p>“A certain someone here stumbled across a cat that was lost in one of the storage rooms, and while carrying her out, of course the cat was more important than looking out for the way, so he hit his head.”</p><p>Nile couldn’t help a laugh at the imagination of Joe, in full mission gear, carrying a little cat through the abandoned train station suspected to serve as the headquarter of a crime ring , and something in Nicky’s gaze turned very soft.</p><p>“Always such a sweet soul, habibi.”</p><p>Joe wanted to answer something to that, a light blush on his cheeks, but Nicky beat him to it by continuing.</p><p>“Speaking of. Nile was curious earlier to hear the story of how I got my necklace.”</p><p>“It was a gift, together with my heart, so many lifetimes ago.”</p><p> </p><p>Joe gestured towards the sofa in the living room, his family following him, and when Nicky had sat down, his head resting comfortably at Joe’s shoulder, he suddenly found himself with a small brown cat in his lap.</p><p>“You couldn’t resist, could you?”, he asked Joe with a soft laugh, not taking his eyes off the cat.</p><p>“Would you have expected me to, tesoro?”</p><p>“Of course not”, he gently scratched the cat behind the tiny ears, “And who might you be?”</p><p>“Ohh, yes, she needs a name!”</p><p>“Hmmm”, Nicky critically regarded the cat, “She really is tiny.”</p><p>“And her fur looks like chocolate cookies”, Andy chimed in, causing the others to chuckle at a reminder of her love for sweets.</p><p>“True. How about mrvica?”, Joe said, immediately prompting Nicky and Andy to nod in agreement.</p><p>“What does that mean?”, Nile asked, her attention captured by the cat that by now had started playing with the tip of Nicky’s tie.</p><p>“It’s Bosnian, for like, a crumble”, Andy explained, “And it’s used for other small things as well, so it’s perfect for our little chocolate cookie here.”</p><p>Nile leaned forward from her seat at the end of the sofa, to be able to pet the cat, and then turned towards Joe.</p><p>“So? I think there was a story you wanted to tell me?”</p><p>“There was indeed. It starts nearly a thousand years ago, in a far away country, when I first witnessed the man I had killed many times before, and who had miraculously always risen again, die at another’s hand.”</p><p>He looked over at Nicky, who smiled, still softly scratching the cat.</p><p>“No death ever has been so worth it as the one that caused me to start seeing you as the wonder of a man that you are.”</p><p>Joe took Nicky’s hand in his, pressed a kiss to it, and then began to tell the story...</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>May I present to you, the backstory of the necklace 👀</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Back when I published the first chapter here, I would have expected that the second one would follow way earlier, but, well. Who'd have thought that my favourite TV show from my teenage days that I hadn't watched in <em>ages</em> would suddenly come back into my life with full force, distracting me from all other fandoms for months.. So, you can blame Destiel for the delay 🤭😅 </p><p>Buuut, tonight I had some spare time so decided to finish this story; hope you'll like it! ☺️</p><p>Also, this somehow got like 3k longer than planned, but I decided against splitting it again, so, enjoy a long chapter 😊</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <strong>923 Years Earlier</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>The fact that dying was an unpleasant experience hadn’t come as a surprise to Yusuf, and after having gone through it a handful of times already, he was convinced that coming back from death wasn’t much better than the dying in itself. On this too hot day, somewhere in the desert far away from any civilization, he woke up with his whole body aching, his lungs desperately begging for air, and once he opened his eyes, the too bright sun hurt to look at. With lots of effort, Yusuf tried to get his fast breathing under control, to settle some of the panic that he felt every time he woke up from what logically should prove unable to recover from.</p><p>After a few minutes, both his breath and his heartbeat had calmed down at least a little, the pain in his chest started to fade, and he was able to concentrate on his surroundings more clearly, all of his senses sharpened. The sun still shone high in the sky, the smell of blood was heavy in the air, and he could hear nothing but the wind – except then, he suddenly did. </p><p>Yusuf could hear a voice, one that seemed to be impossibly far away, and yet he recognized it. It was the voice of the Christian soldier. The one he had been fighting against for days, both of them seemingly unable to leave this world for the next, none of them possessing any answers to the questions that this raised in both of them. Between deaths and resurrections, they sometimes had thrown insults at each other - insults that might have lost a bit of their bite, become a bit teasing with time. A very little bit. A bit so tiny that it wasn’t worth thinking about, or at least Yusuf told himself that.</p><p>He had heard the Christian talk in at least three languages, darkly chuckle, heard him scream, choke on his blood. But this. Never this. Because now, the Christian was <em>begging.</em></p><p> </p><p>Slowly, still feeling a faint echo of the wound where the Christian had run his knife through his chest earlier that day, Yusuf sat up. Which enabled him to lay his eyes on two figures. A fellow soldier, a man had seen a few times around camp before, kneeling above the Christian, who was laying on the ground, his body trembling. And he still was begging. Yusuf did not understand. Surely the man too must have realized that, for whatever reason Allah might have seen fitting, neither of them possessed the ability to die. So he couldn't be begging for his life to be spared? Maybe he was begging to be killed fast, so the pain, or the worst of it, would stop? But no, that couldn’t be it either. Once, Yusuf had watched him bleed out from a stomach wound for nearly half an hour, and the Christian hadn't said a word. Just looked at Yusuf, a stony expression in his sea-coloured eyes. And Yusuf had looked back, the possibility of leaving not once crossing his mind.</p><p>Then what was it? Yusuf focused on listening closer, above the noises of the wind and the battle which seemingly had moved somewhere across the hill behind them, and above the sounds of the birds feeding on his fallen brothers and enemies alike. And finally, he caught a few words. The Christian's Arabic wasn’t good, but Yusuf knew, just <em>knew</em>, that despite the pain oh so audible in his voice, he tried his best to speak clearly. To make himself understood. </p><p>"Please, don't, ... my mother...", he pleaded, and despite still not quite understanding, Yusuf could feel himself swallowing.</p><p> </p><p>Feeling the strength returning to his body, Yusuf stood up, picked up his weapon where it had fallen into the sand a few feet away, and looked at the two men again. He had a better view now, and by that, he was able to see the object of the Christian's pleas. His armour and his undershirt both were ripped open, maybe by Yusuf's own hand, maybe by the knife currently located deep in his shoulder, and his skin underneath, where it wasn’t coated in blood, shone pale like the dessert in the morning sun. And above it, close to his heart, there lay a silver chain, with a cross at the end of it. A cross that Yusuf’s fellow soldier was holding in his hands, despite the Christian's fingers desperately trying to get it back.</p><p>The soldier, still as unaware to Yusuf's presence as the Christian beneath him, smiled an ugly smile, and then took the fragile silver cross, holding it tight, and broke it in two. A broken sound left the Christian’s lips at that, and for the first time, Yusuf saw tears in those eyes that he'd drown in for a thousand years to come. </p><p>The other man saw the tears too, laughed again, and then yanked his dagger out of the Christian's shoulder, causing a breathless gasp, before slicing open his throat. It was a quick death, and those light eyes turned lifeless towards the sky, reflecting the colour of a light blue heaven that knew no mercy on this day.</p><p> </p><p>Yusuf walked up to the other man, not quite knowing <em>why</em>; it was as if his feet moved on their own will. And finally, his presence was noticed.</p><p>"Yusuf!", there was surprise in his voice, and a smile on his lips, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, "I was sure you'd have fallen."</p><p>"It was a close call", Yusuf lied. </p><p>It hadn't been a close miss. If there was one thing that the Christian was, it was being good at aiming. The knife he had thrown at Yusuf earlier had landed exactly in his heart, so fast that he didn't have much time to realize it or any pain, before he already had died.</p><p>"Ah. Good for you then. Was it this one, that killed you?", the man asked, not pointing towards the Christian, but instead kicking his foot into his side. The broken silver chain slipped off his lifeless chest, into the bloodied sand.</p><p>Yusuf could feel his blood boiling. That was no way to treat a dead body, none at all. And he was sure he’d have minded just as much if it wasn’t this certain Christian, the one who would rise again soon (about the possibility that he wouldn’t, Yusuf couldn’t bring himself to think); that his distaste about the treatment had nothing to do with this particular man.</p><p>"Well, I got him for it", another laugh, "Did you hear how pathetically he begged for this?", he showed Yusuf the broken cross pendant, "As if I'd care if it's the last thing that scum like him has left of his worthless mother."</p><p> </p><p>Yusuf swallowed again, his mouth feeling drier than the dessert around him. The man's words burned like acid underneath his skin, and he realized that he hated him. Hated him for being unnecessarily cruel to a man that Yusuf should hate more than anything else on this earth. Despised the man for basking in the suffering of a man who killed Yusuf a dozen times without blinking an eye. And Yusuf was so caught up in this, in a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings he couldn’t begin to understand, that he forgot the time. Forgot how he had noticed that it took them a little shorter each time they came back to life.</p><p>The Christian gasped, greedily sucking in air, and the other soldier's mouth fell open.</p><p>"How-", he started, but didn't allow his confusion to linger. </p><p>Instead, he viciously started kicking the Christian, whose eyes turn from confused to pained in a second, and when he tried curling in on himself, an instinct to escape the boots shattering his rips, the man drew his sword. </p><p>But Yusuf was faster. He ran his comrade, his brother, through with one clean strike. The man was dead before he hit the ground, and Yusuf couldn't find it in himself to feel with him. Instead, his attention zeroed in on the Christian, whose hands were pitifully clutching at his shattered chest. Who was dying, once again.</p><p>His eyes found Yusuf's, and he wasn’t quite able to decipher what he saw in their green depths, which emotions he found there. What Yusuf <em>did</em> understand, very clearly, was that he didn’t like it when the light in them started to dim, didn’t like it how the man was trembling in agony. Out of what felt like an instinct, Yusuf clutched one of the Christian's hands in both of his, offering him the opportunity to hold onto something. He took it, his fingers tight around Yusuf's, before they went still. And once again, his eyes were nothing but empty shells. </p><p>Yusuf sat back on his heels. Breathed in, out, in. And realized something. A small thought, somewhere in the back of his mind, that was about to change the course of his life forever. </p><p>He didn't want to see the Christian dying again.</p><p> </p><p>A few minutes later, broken rips settled again with an ugly cracking noise, and then, breath returned into that pale chest. But the Christian didn't open his eyes. Yusuf waited a moment, then extended his hand. And hesitated. Not quite sure what to do with it, he poked the man's cheek. Again. And then, the Christian came to, flinching, instantly trying to get away from Yusuf. Yusuf leaned back a bit, holding up both of his empty hands. The back of his mind yelled at him to stop being such a fool, to reach for his sword, to run, but he didn't. </p><p>Instead, he forced himself to be absolutely calm. To just look at the Christian. Who looked back, his breathing rabbit-fast, his whole body-language speaking of how on edge he was. Green eyes flickered away from Yusuf’s, and then fell on the body next to him on the ground. His eyes widened, flying back to Yusuf. </p><p>And his grasp of the other man’s language wasn't good enough to explain to the Christian why he had done this. Or maybe he wouldn't have been able to do so in Arabic either, because there were feelings battling in his chest that he yet had to learn the names, the meanings of. All that Yusuf knew was that he had been unable to witness his comrade torturing the Christian. And that there was something in the depths of his green eyes, which he was able to look at from such a short distance for the first time, that he didn’t want to see fading into nothingness again. </p><p>Instead of saying something, Yusuf shrugged his shoulders, and then held out his hand. The Christian hesitated, his eyes once again taking in the dead man, before settling on Yusuf’s face. And then he took the offered hand, allowed Yusuf to haul him to his feet. He let go as soon as he was standing, and quickly went to pick up his own sword that had fallen to the ground a few feet away from him. Tucked it away. His fingers stayed clutched around the handle, but he didn't move to draw it, to launch at Yusuf. </p><p>It wasn't trust, not yet, but it wasn't pure hostility either. For the first time, Yusuf allowed himself the time to study the other man's features, apart from his striking eyes. The dark lashes framing those eyes. His nose. The messy beard on his cheeks, his long hair, roughly bound into a bun. The tiredness visible in his features, the exhaustion. He looked more of a man than the demon Yusuf had come to see him as. A tired yet very attractive man.</p><p>The Christian seemed to study him too, and then, there was a word, his Arabic shaky but understandable.</p><p>"Away?"</p><p>And Yusuf understood what he actually was asking. He nodded.</p><p> </p><p>The Christian, who slowly turned from that to Nicolò in his mind, never asked him about that day, about the body of his fellow soldier, about what caused his mind to change. And Yusuf didn't mention it either. Instead, he focused on building.. not quite peace, but a partnership beneficial to both parties with Nicolò. They travelled together, and after a few weeks, Yusuf noticed that they also talked. He couldn’t have said when it started exactly, when short sentences about the weather or disagreements about the way to go had turned into actual conversations. But they did. </p><p>Yusuf found himself talking about his travels, the far away countries he had seen before the war, and when he admitted that Italy in spring was a sight of beauty, for the first time, he witnessed a smile spread on Nicolò's lips. And Yusuf felt like he should correct himself immediately, because the brightest of may afternoons at the Italian coast could not rival the beauty he was faced with right now, when his companion's dusty and tired face smiled at him, his green eyes sparkling.</p><p>It was a warm evening, one where they managed to scramble together a halfway decent meal and were sitting in the shade of an old olive tree, when Joe first heard about Nicolò’s mother. He had handed the Christian the last remains of a pie he had bought in a town they had rode through the previous day, and the man had smiled at Yusuf, causing a strange feeling in his chest with that. And then, the Christian had made a remark about how this pie certainly was good, but not as good as the one his mother had used to make. </p><p>For a moment, both of them were utterly silent, Nicolò himself seemingly surprised by what he had said. But then, he took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the merrily dancing flames of their campfire, and he started to talk.</p><p>About how he barely could remember his mother’s face, having been oh so young when she passed away, and how his father’s words about how she was with God now had been his only comfort in many lonely nights during his childhood. Yusuf heard about how Nicolò’s father used to say that his son would have his mother’s eyes, filled with the same kindness as hers had been. And he learned that his father had given Nicolò his mother’s necklace on the day that he had left to become a priest; kissing the little cross before placing it on the chest of a son he never would see again. Nicolò closed his story by saying that he had prayed for his mother’s soul on every day as long as he was able to remember, and that, once the news of his father’s passing had reached him in the monastery, prayers for his soul had joined. </p><p>Nicolò fell silent, the flickering fire reflecting in a tear gliding down his cheek, and Yusuf was lost for words. But no matter how much he enjoyed them, weaving them together to form the prettiest speeches and most heartfelt poems, he knew that sometimes, words weren’t needed. So instead, he leaned over, placed a hand on Nicolò’s slightly trembling shoulder. And when the man looked at him again, there was gratefulness shining in them. As well as a hint of something else.</p><p> </p><p>Yusuf didn’t immediately notice it, but that evening at the fire had changed something. Where before, he mostly had been the one to tell private stories from his past, Nicolò listening and only offering a little memory here or there, the other man now started to open up even more. He talked about his time as a priest, about the harsh travelling together with the other crusaders, about how deeply convinced they had been of doing what God has asked them to do. Yusuf was about to comment on that, when Nicolò already continued, stating in a low voice that by now, he had understood that they had been wrong to think so. That he didn’t know what God’s plans were, especially with them, with the gift he had given them, but that he had come to understand that fighting against Yusuf and his people held nothing heavenly in it. And Yusuf wasn’t sure if he ever could forgive the Christians in general, their pope, for what they had done to his people, what they still were doing, but at the same time, he knew that when it came to this particular Christian, he held no bitter feelings anymore. </p><p>Nicolò had had his reasons to join the crusade, and most of them had been wrong, but he could see that himself, and when he talked about the wrongs committed by the Christian forces, there was such a deep sorrow shining out of his eyes that Yusuf felt himself forgiving him. Forgiving his <em>friend</em>, because that was what they had become, even if none of them ever had said it out loud. By now, Yusuf realized that he trusted Nicolò, knew that the other man always had his back, and more so, he found that he enjoyed his company. Nicolò’s tongue still stumbled over some words in Arabic, but that didn’t stop him from trying his best to learn the name of whatever Yusuf would point out to him, and when he complimented Yusuf’s own language skills, he hoped that his beard would be able to hide the blush creeping onto his cheeks. </p><p> </p><p>Weeks of traveling together turned into months and then turned into a year, and by then, Yusuf couldn’t quite imagine his life without Nicolò by his side anymore. Without his dry humour and his good-natured teasing, without his sharp eyes and the quickness with which his sword was able to disarm whoever proved to be a thread for the two unlikely friends, without the gentleness he carried deep in his heart that shone out of his eyes. His very pretty eyes, and Yusuf could admit, only to himself, late at night when no one but the stars was there to witness his thoughts, that his former enemy had turned out to not only be a pleasant companion, a good friend and a kind soul, no, he also was a very beautiful man. A beautiful man who sometimes smiled at Yusuf, this little, private smile, in such a way that<br/>
Yusuf nearly could believe that Nicolò saw something likewise in him too. But it would take a few more weeks for him to find an answer to those questions, those longings swirling in his mind.</p><p>The two men had spent some time in the countryside, finding works on some farms and with a family that was building a house, and once they had some money together and felt the call of new adventures, they said goodbye to their new friends. A dusty road led them through a wide valley until at the horizon, they could make out the silhouette of a city. So far, they had avoided those on their travels, the danger too big that one or both of them would be unwelcome, but by now, Yusuf ached for the comfort of a good mattress, for the opportunity to pray in an actual mosque, for some rush of business around him. Nicolò must have noticed his longing gaze, for he started to speak.</p><p>“Do you think it would be safe, to go there?”</p><p>Yusuf shrugged, unsure since he didn’t even know the name of this city, and he would have voiced both his doubts and his cravings, hadn’t he noticed how Nicolò tensed at his side in that very moment.</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“Riders”, Nicolò’s sharp eyes were fixed on the horizon, “Half a dozen, coming towards us, fast.”</p><p>A quick glance around confirmed Yusuf’s fear that the plain fields on both sides of the road didn’t offer any opportunities to take shelter, so he just fastened his grip on his sword. The riders came closer, surely having seen them by now, and all too soon, they reached the two friends, stopping in front of them. The man who had been riding in front, seemingly the leader, studied them, and then offered a greeting in what sounded a bit like Nicolò’s language but not quite. Nicolò answered the greetings, and they talked for a few moments, with Yusuf being mostly unable to follow the conversation, except for recognizing a mention of Genova and of the province they had stayed in last. But suddenly, his friend gestured to him, and Yusuf found himself the center of the attention, before the leader of the riders nodded, a look of puzzled curiosity on his face. Soon after, they wished their goodbyes, and rode off.</p><p> </p><p>Yusuf turned to Nicolò in question.</p><p>“What were you talking about?”</p><p>“Those were merchants from Rome, looking for fabrics and spices to trade.”</p><p>“Rome? That’s not all too far from your home, isn’t it? And yet I couldn’t understand a word of what they were saying.”</p><p>At that, Nicolò laughed, the sound warming Yusuf to his very core.</p><p>“Well, they’re hard to understand indeed, it’s as if they’ve got their whole own language.”</p><p>“Why were they all looking at me suddenly?”</p><p>Nicolò didn’t quite meet his eyes anymore.</p><p>“I asked them if it would be safe to go to the city, for us, for you.”</p><p>Yusuf just looked at Nicolò at that, who seemingly interpreted his silence differently than it was meant.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I, I didn’t want to- It’s just, they were obviously Christians, and they were coming from the city, so I knew that I wouldn’t get into troubles there, but, I wanted to be sure, that you’d be, that no one would-“</p><p>Before Nicolò could say more, Yusuf had wrapped his arms around him, drawing him into a hug. After a second of surprise, Nicolò’s arms settled comfortably around his back, and when they loosened their hug, all too soon for Yusuf’s liking, there was a hint of pink visible at the paler man’s cheeks.</p><p>“Thank you, amico mio”, Yusuf offered, taking in with delight how Nicolò’s whole face lit up at his words.</p><p>“Of course, it’s nothing. I also asked them if they might know the way to the mosque, and they said it’s hard to miss, just to the east from the central market.”</p><p>Yusuf just nodded and motioned for his friend to continue their way, but for the whole time it took them to reach the city, Nicolò’s words were repeating themselves in his mind. And he smiled.</p><p> </p><p>Shortly after entering the city, Yusuf and Nicolò came across a busy market street, taverns and stalls selling various products aligned as far as they could see. Yusuf’s eyes greedily took in the colours, the people, the stark contrast to the emptiness of the desert that had been everything he had seen for such a long time. But even more so than his eyes, he enjoyed the impressions that reached him through his nose, the uncountable different spices, perfumes, flowers that must be growing somewhere close, and, most important, food. Before Yusuf himself could even make a suggestion, Nicolò pointed towards an elderly woman that was selling what seemed to be stew a few meters away, and with a bright smile, he nodded.</p><p>After filling their stomachs with the delicious stew, they decided to separate their ways – Nicolò promised to look for a place they could sleep at, while Yusuf walked towards the mosque. He was in no hurry, they had agreed to only meet at sunset again, so when behind a row of houses, Yusuf could spot the deep green of palmtrees, he left his way and strolled over there. The trees cast a little park in their deep shadows, insects flying between flowers in more colours than Yusuf could name, and he happily walked between them, before sitting down with his back to a tall old tree. It was the first time that Yusuf was alone in nearly a year, or at least the first time he was alone like this – taking a break during an afternoon stroll, surrounded by civilization, instead of being alone while hunting for food, looking out for enemies, collecting firewood, all the while looking forward to getting back to Nicolò. Though that, he also longed to do now. </p><p>Yusuf’s eyes followed a butterfly flying around a light blue flower, while his thoughts still were with his companion. And he knew. It wasn’t a big moment of revelation, no shocking reveal rocking through his heart, no. Yusuf just knew, became aware that he knew, deeply inside probably had known for a long time already. He loved Nicolò. That was a fact. And it didn’t even sent Yusuf into much of a panic, since, looking at how he had viewed the Christian in the most recent time, how could it be any different?</p><p>The thought put a smile on Yusuf’s lips, a small one that yet was oh so heartfelt. And maybe a little nervous. <em>Love</em>. What a beautiful word, what a beautiful concept. What a beautiful way to describe all that his Nicolò meant to him. </p><p>With fast beats of his wings, the butterfly took off towards the sky, and after he wasn’t able to make out the little creature against the light blue anymore, Yusuf rose from his seat underneath the tree too. Finding the mosque then proved to be easy, even if he hadn’t started his way at the main market square to follow the Roman merchant’s description, and his visit brought a deep sense of calm to his soul, for praying there felt like experiencing a little glimpse of home in a place so far away from it. The artist in him admired the detailed ceiling, the ornaments outshining even the colours in the garden he just had left, as well as the outer façade of the building, and his fingers itched to paint it. Maybe he could find some simple painting tools at one of the market stands, come back here to sketch the place, should they stick to their plan of staying in the city for a few days.  </p><p> </p><p>Yusuf looked towards the sky once again, only to notice that the sun stood deeper already than he’d have expected it – he must have spent longer admiring the mosque’s artwork than he would have thought, and with a sigh, he quickly turned around, back towards where he was supposed to meet Nicolò. Or, well. He thought that was the way. But after the third time he rounded a corner, expecting it to open into the street he was supposed to meet Nicolò, only to see an utterly unfamiliar environment, Yusuf had to admit that he had gotten lost. The evening light played pretty around the rooftops of the closest houses, but he didn’t allow himself to linger in admiring, no, he had a mission. And that mission was to find Nicolò again, to make sure the other man wouldn’t worry. </p><p>There were fewer people around now than when they had entered the town, the locals returning towards the comfort of their own homes for dinner, and Yusuf quickened his steps when he spotted a young man at the other side of the street, packing a bunch of sparkling objects together. A shop owner had to know his way around, shouldn’t he? The man raised his eyes, returned Yusuf’s polite greetings, and then nodded along to the description of where he wanted to go.</p><p>“Do you see the house at the end of the street, the one with the one broken window?”, Yusuf affirmed that he did, “If you go left behind that, and then right once you pass a bakery, one with a green rooftop, then you should find the street you’re looking for, my brother.”</p><p>Yusuf thanked the man, and was already about to leave, but then he spotted something. Between a variety of little metal boxes, brooches and pins, there was a small pillow displaying a few necklaces. Golden necklaces, simple ones, and one of those was carrying a fine cross. </p><p>At another time, he might have gotten lost in musings about how his feelings at the sight of this symbol changed throughout his life, went from not minding it much to feeling sheer hatred to associating it with a certain man and their first meeting more than with the whole religion. But not in this moment. All he thought about was the certainty that this would make Nicolò smile, that was all that mattered.</p><p>He pointed towards the cross, causing a surprised expression to flash over his opponent’s face. But he didn’t question the choice, just took Yusuf’s money with a polite smile and then handed him the necklace, before wishing him a good evening. Yusuf waved at him, then hurried towards the house with the broken window, past the bakery, and finally reached the following street. And before he recognized it with his eyes, his nose did so, happily taking in the broad variety of spices he could remember from earlier. His steps slowed down a bit, and he spun his head around, looking out for his companion. But he couldn’t see Nicolò.</p><p> </p><p>Worry etched itself into Yusuf’s heart, worry that he was too late, that Nicolò might have gone searching for him, that they had missed each other. Before he could think about what to do about that possibility though, he got spooked out of his thoughts. Because there was a hand on his shoulder, someone touching him, and razor-sharp instincts had Yusuf reaching for his dagger before he consciously could decide to do so. Only that in this case, defending himself proved to be unnecessary.</p><p>“Careful there, my friend”, Nicolò’s voice whispered, close to Yusuf’s ear, and his fingers closed around Yusuf’s own, loosening them where they held the dagger.</p><p>Yusuf turned around, and felt his heart skip a beat, or maybe three. Because Nicolò was standing close to him. Very close. His face was serious, but in his sea-coloured eyes, there was amusement dancing, and even more so than the beautiful flowers or the delicate mosque, Yusuf’s fingers ached to capture those on paper.</p><p>He wanted to tell Nicolò how beautiful his eyes were, about how the hint of a smile now playing around his lips was the most beautiful thing that Yusuf had seen throughout the whole day, wanted to let him know that even those few hours apart had caused him to miss the other man’s company. But he didn’t. </p><p>“Good evening. I apologize for being late, I got lost-“</p><p>“Oh I figured that”, Nicolò chuckled, and while the sound filled Yusuf’s chest with warmth, he pretended to be offended.</p><p>“- in the beauty of this place, and forgot the time.”</p><p>“So you didn’t get lost as in, not finding your way back?”</p><p>“But I did. I’ll always find my way back to you.”</p><p>For a second, Yusuf internally panicked about that last sentence, the one that had slipped out without him having planned it, but then he saw Nicolò’s expression. And there was something in there that had him wondering if maybe, instead of regretting that sentence, he should follow it up with more similar statements. But that was something that could be explored later.</p><p>“Were you able to find a place where we can sleep?”</p><p>“I did, yes. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do though – as I found out, there’s a big market in just two days, and lots of people have come to the city to attend it. But one of the smaller taverns still had a room left, and I convinced the lady there to rent it to us.”</p><p>“Brilliant. Would you mind if we went there soon? I really would appreciate the opportunity to lay down, rest my legs for a while.”</p><p>“Of course, let us go there. It’s not far away.”</p><p> </p><p>And they would have gone straight to the tavern, hadn’t they stumbled across a gap in the line of houses, enabling the two travellers to glance towards the outer parts of the city, the desert behind, and the setting sun, slowly making her way towards the horizon. Without having to talk about it, Yusuf and Nicolò sat down at the edge of a well, and just watched. They had seen a lot of sunsets together, but there was a difference between witnessing it in the middle of the desert, talking about who should take the first watch, if the spot they had chosen to sleep might be safe, where they might find themselves the next day, and watching it here. In the safety of the city, with the certainty of a warm meal, a soft bed. </p><p>Yusuf heard Nicolò take in a breath, glanced to the side – and wondered if he shouldn’t have. For as soon as his eyes landed on his friend, the sunset was forgotten, and all he could focus on was the way that the sunlight illuminated soft skin, light eyes, a prominent nose. Nicolò kept watching the sunset, his eyes fixed to the horizon until long after the sun had vanished. Darkness wrapped her wings around the desert, and when his friend finally moved his head around, Yusuf wasn’t quick enough to look away. Their eyes met. And Nicolò smiled, in a way that caused his companion’s heart to stutter once again.</p><p>“Nicolò.”</p><p>“Yes?”, and his voice sounded rougher than it normally did.</p><p>“I, earlier, I bought you something?”</p><p>“Oh?”, Nicolò looked curious, but also as if he might have expected to hear something different.</p><p>For reasons he couldn’t have named, Yusuf’s thoughts went back to the butterfly he had witnessed earlier, a brave little creature that would just expand its wings and fly. Brave, that surely was, and Yusuf took a deep breath.</p><p>With one hand, he reached for Nicolò’s, gently taking his fingers in his own, and with his other hand, he reached inside his robe, taking out the necklace. He placed it in Nicolò’s hand, and then looked down, not meeting his eyes anymore. </p><p>For a moment, it was silent, so utterly silent that Yusuf was sure both of them must have stopped breathing. And then he heard Nicolò’s voice, low, shaky, and filled with more emotions than he could count.</p><p>“Yusuf”, he whispered, his fingers tightening around the other man’s, “I’m lost for words”, and he said that in Arabic, his well done pronunciation for once escaping Yusuf’s attention.</p><p>They stared at each other. For a moment, the world didn’t seem to exist, just the two of them, so close.. And then their little bubble flew away. For a family crossed the street behind them, children loudly chatting, and the moment was broken.</p><p> </p><p>Nicolò stood up, quickly, and then looked down at Yusuf. </p><p>“We should go”, he said in a voice even shakier than before, and Yusuf nodded.</p><p>The walk to the tavern was silent, though it was not a comfortable one – the silence felt like the air before a summer storm, when not a cloud was yet visible at the sky, and yet the atmosphere already promised that soon, all hell would break loose.</p><p> </p><p>Once they reached the tavern, Nicolò led Yusuf up two stairs, towards a crooked door, and behind that, they found a small chamber. A small chamber with a tiny window, a dirty rug on the floor, a bucket filled with water, and a bed. One bed. Nicolò noticed Yusuf’s glance, and softly chuckled, sounding too nervous for it to be true.</p><p>“The owner informed me about this, but it was the only room left anywhere around, and I can sleep on the floor, it won’t be a problem. Still more comfortable than what we’re used to.”</p><p>“Hmmm”, Yusuf walked over to the bed, sat down at the edge of it. </p><p>Took in Nicolò’s appearance, his chest moving with his fast breath, his fingers tightly holding the necklace. And after shortly closing his eyes, listening to his own rapid heartbeat, Yusuf extended his wings.</p><p>“Or you could join me here, instead of sleeping on the floor”, he offered, his eyes boring into Nicolò’s.”</p><p>The younger man walked over to the bed, but instead of sitting down on it, he went down on his knees, right in front of Yusuf. Their faces oh so close, and finally, with a smile, Nicolò leaned in.</p><p>The storm broke lose. And Yusuf found out how it felt to fly.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>923 Years Later</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>“That was the first time I kissed my Nicolò, and I knew that I’d never want to even look at another again”, Joe finished the story, pressing a kiss into the hair of Nicky, who had rested his head on Joe’s shoulder.</p><p>“Wow”, Nile exclaimed, her eyes shining, “So you got Nicky that necklace on the day you realized you had fallen in love with him?”</p><p>Joe nodded, and Nicky was about so say more, about how this necklace managed to span a beautiful circle between the last time they had killed each other and the first time they had kissed, between his family and the man that had become his whole life. But before he could do so, Nile’s eyes widened, and suddenly she was laughing.</p><p>“Oh my God guys. Are you aware that the end of your story literally is the embodiment of <em>And there was only one bed!</em>?”</p><p>“What?”, Nicky scrunched his nose in confusion, and Nile laughed again.</p><p>“I love you guys”, she chuckled, and then wished them a good night, the others soon following her, until it was just Nicky and Joe sitting together.</p><p> </p><p>“Sometimes I can’t believe how incredibly long ago that was”, Nicky whispered, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the necklace underneath his shirt.</p><p>“It is. And yet you’re still as beautiful as you were back then, tesoro”, Joe whispered, already expecting the faint blush on Nicky’s cheeks - no matter how many compliments from his beloved he heard, he never seemed to quite get used to them. Which was one of the many many reasons that Joe loved him. </p><p>“You’re forever a charmer, Yusuf Al-Kaysani.”</p><p>“Solo per te, Nicolò. Per sempre solo per te.”</p><p>And when they kissed, both of their hearts fluttered just as much as they had done when their lips had met for the first time, and as they would for all the times to come.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you liked this story, please be so kind to leave me a comment, it would mean a lot! ❤️ </p><p>My title is from the song "For a Second" by Michael Schulte 🎵</p></blockquote></div></div>
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